


Duplicitous

by glyphsbowtie



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M, Undercover
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-20
Updated: 2017-06-20
Packaged: 2018-11-16 14:11:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11254581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glyphsbowtie/pseuds/glyphsbowtie
Summary: Jesse McCree is frustrated by being sent on yet another undercover job. Hanzo Shimada is frustrated by waiting for someone to come and spy on him.





	Duplicitous

Undercover.

 

McCree hates it. He hates the lies which flow like silk from his silver tongue, hates the fake smiles and the real feelings he develops, the people he comes to care for then is forced to abandon or betray.

 

“You're making the world a better place,” Reyes tells him when he complains. “You're atoning.”

 

McCree knows he deserves this pain, really. But he hates it and he wishes he wasn't as good at it. They might send someone else then. Jack could do it; he isn't so old that his looks and charm have left him yet. But there is something about McCree that makes him perfect for these missions, something none of them can explain.

 

And so it is that they fly him off to Hanamura, with a fake ID (Tom McCree) and a photograph of his mark in his shirt pocket. He reads the thick file they have given him on Hanzo Shimada, heir to the Shimada empire, on the flight. Fearsome, deadly and generally unpleasant. So far, so similar.

 

The castle is imposing and beautiful, pink blossoms lending the place a pretty, fresh feeling. He introduces himself to the guard at the gate, who scowls at his ID and narrows his eyes when McCree suggests he is here to apply for the position of Hanzo Shimada's bodyguard.

 

The man snaps something into his radio in brisk Japanese and receives a similarly brisk reply. He reaches for his gun and McCree tenses. He hasn't blown a mission in years. Then, a second voice, firmer and richer, comes through the radio, issuing orders McCree doesn't understand.

 

The guard frowns, but he beckons to McCree to follow him and leads him down an ornate hallway. Everything is clean and expensive. McCree knows something is amiss and is fully prepared to be ambushed, but he is simply shown into an empty room and left.

 

He sits down on a sofa and folds his hands in his lap, assuming that he is being watched. He needs to try to maintain his charade.

 

A light weight drops onto his shoulder suddenly and he cries out in shock, leaping up. The thing on his shoulder clings on with sharp blue claws and he stares down in disbelief at what he can only describe as a tiny  _ dragon.  _ He reaches for Peacekeeper, has her drawn and raised to the dragon, when he hears the silky, deadly voice.

 

“I will kill you before you can pull the trigger. Lower your weapon.”

 

McCree looks up from the tiny monster and stares at Hanzo Shimada, who is standing with a bow in his hands, an arrow tensed and aimed between McCree's eyes.

 

“Howdy,” McCree says slowly, wondering how to play this. He is fairly confident that he could kill this little beast and Shimada himself before the arrow strikes, but that is not what he is here to do. “I'm here to interview as your bodyguard.”

 

“You are not suitable,” Hanzo Shimada replies, frowning at McCree as though he has never seen anything more disappointing in his life.

 

“May I ask why not?” McCree is frowning, unsure of why this mission has gone so badly wrong. His fingers curled around his gun are sweating. The small creature growls at him.

 

“You are not capable of dealing with what we do here.” The words are final, firm.

 

“I disagree. I’ve spent my life working for operations like this. I’m not afraid of getting my hands dirty.” Some truths, some falsehoods: the key ingredients for an effective undercover operation.

 

Shimada raises his eyebrows. “What is your name, cowboy?”

 

McCree glances up, to the shadows cast by his hat, and smirks at the nickname. “Tom McCree, partner.”

 

Shimada whistles and the little creature scuttles from McCree’s shoulder and back to him, climbing up his torso and disappearing into the collar of his black silk shirt. Hanzo Shimada is unfortunately very attractive. His dark eyes are currently full of something McCree can’t read. McCree straightens, glad of the creature’s absence, and tucks his pistol away in a gesture of trust he doesn’t feel. Shimada does not lower the arrow.

 

“What was that?” McCree asks.

 

“McCree,” Shimada repeats, ignoring the question. “I know of you, I’m afraid. Jesse McCree, not Tom.”

 

McCree tries to decide on the best course of action. He allows his most charming smile to dimple his face. “You understand why I need to use a false name, of course. Overwatch ain’t goin’ to be too pleased when they find out I’ve deserted them to join you.”

 

“Deserted them?” Shimada lowers the bow. “Why?”

 

“I didn’t want to join them in the first place.” McCree shrugs. “It was that or prison. I’m not a good guy, Shimada.” His smile is making his face ache, and he can’t tell if Shimada is buying this.

 

Shimada casts the bow aside and crosses the room to McCree. He is a little shorter than McCree, and he stands so close that their chests are touching. McCree stares into those dark, imposing eyes and wishes they were meeting in different circumstances.

 

“We will see about that,” Shimada says, and then he presses his mouth against McCree’s.

 

The kiss takes McCree by surprise; he had half expected to have to fight his way of this room. Still, it is not unpleasant. Shimada has soft, warm lips and a fierce kiss. He tastes of mint. McCree reaches up to grab the sleek black tail of hair Shimada has and pulls him closer, opening his mouth to allow the heir to this terrible empire to dip his tongue inside and trail it along his own.

 

Shimada trails his lips across the stubble-dusted jawline of his job applicant and presses his lips against McCree’s ear. “They are watching and listening,” he whispers urgently. “Look as if I am seducing you.”

 

“That may not be too difficult,” McCree murmurs back, still clutching onto the back of Shimada’s neck. “What the hell is going on?”

 

“I have been waiting a long time for Overwatch to send an operative to spy on me. They could have sent one who is slightly more capable, but I suppose given the circumstances you will have to do.”

 

“Hold up there-” McCree says, forgetting that they are being watched, and pushing Shimada away.

 

Shimada frowns, then is on him again, mouths crashing together as he wrestles McCree to the floor. McCree’s waist is snugly in between Shimada’s muscular thighs as the enigmatic man he has been sent to spy on hisses again in his ear, “You are a complete idiot. I cannot believe it is you they sent. Even if I hadn’t been waiting for you, I would have seen you were undercover quite easily.”

 

McCree raises his eyebrows and responds by grabbing Shimada’s ass firmly, delighting in the hiss the other man gives. “I am assuming you had some reason to want me to come that’s a little more meaningful than making out with me on the floor?” he mutters.

 

“I need you to help me bring the Shimada family to justice,” Shimada hisses back.

 

“Woah-” McCree says, going to push him away again. He is rewarded by a sharp nip to his throat which makes him groan. “You’re in the Shimada family, you know.”

 

“You are truly perceptive,” Shimada growls in his ear. “I will come quietly, I promise.”

 

The words make McCree moan and he shakes his head. “This is insane,” he whispers. “How can I trust you?”

 

Shimada shrugs. He is still nibbling at McCree’s neck. McCree feels that this is not strictly necessary now, but it is certainly not unpleasant, so he allows it.

 

“You know what the punishment will be for what you have done?” McCree whispers.

 

“Depends if the family discovers what we are trying to do before we actually do it. Dismemberment if they do. I cannot even imagine what they would do to you.”

 

“Wonderful,” McCree says drily.

 

“Prison for me if we are successful. Perhaps death.” Shimada speaks these words in a matter-of-fact whisper. This is a man who has reconciled himself to this fate. McCree wants to tear open his skull and see what has caused this man to turn his back on everything he knows.

 

“It could be even worse than that,” McCree says, rolling them over so that he is straddling Shimada. He bends down and tastes the fragranced hair of Shimada’s beard. Shimada looks murderously up at him. “You might end up being forced to work for Overwatch.”

 

Shimada surprises him by barking a laugh. “Do we have an accord then, Jesse McCree?”

 

McCree grins down at him. “I think we do.”


End file.
